


That Day.

by Helyme



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13934094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helyme/pseuds/Helyme
Summary: Garrus discovers the news about Shepard and Alchera.





	That Day.

It was a lovely day, as always.

The artificial sunlight gleamed merrily over the pristine grounds of the Presidium, fountains sparkling as skycars cruised lazily overhead. Sovereign’s attack on the Citadel was barely a month ago, yet no trace of the aftermath was left alone by the ever-present keepers, scuttling their way to who knows where. Garrus squinted against the brightness, leaning against the window of the shuttle as it slowly trundled it’s way to the docks. A soft chime jarred him from his musing, bringing to life a small spark of hope that he squashed before he had the chance to think about it too much. He quickly shifted to bring up the interface of his omnitool, eyes hungrily stripping the words from the screen.

Not her. 

_Ex. V. Pallin - URGENT - Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Spectre Training Application._

What remained of the spark died, and disappointment drew a dark heavy mist around him, threatening to coalesce into something sharper. Pallin again, most likely with yet another long and overly complicated form. He sighed, filing it under future-Garrus-problems before opening the message that should have crinkled like well-worn paper for the number of times he had read it.

_Garrus_

_FINALLY! The Normandy should be docking at the Citadel this time next week! Thank god, the crew could all use some shore leave, people are starting to get cranky and there are only so many of the good ration bars left. We just have one more system to check for wild geese - I mean “Geth” - and then its back to civilization! We dropped Wrex off on our way past Tuchanka, and Tali headed back to the fleet a few days ago, so its just Kaidan and Liara now. Liara wants me to tell you she misses you and hopes you are well. Kaidan just says hi._

_I hope you finished that application for Spectre training. If I get back and it’s not done I’ll wrestle that Viper from you with my bare hands and hide it until I see PROOF._

_When we get back I fully expect you to report to me for drinks and shenanigans. Maybe we could check out that sushi place down on Silversun that you keep talking about._

_See you soon_

_\- J_

That week had gone by at an excruciatingly slow pace. The Wards were all uncharacteristically quiet, with only the most minor and mundane of criminal activity, and Garrus had been stuck in the precinct making his way through a never-ending backlog of paperwork. Even Chellick had gotten so tired of his grumbling and pacing that he had all but dragged him out for a drink, where he then spent the entire evening berating Garrus for his (definitely non-existent) infatuation with Shepard.

_“Spirits Garrus, you were aboard, what, a few months? I never thought you would be the kind to get all starry-eyed over your Commander, let alone a Spectre and a human one at that! Look at you, tripping over yourself like it's your first day at boot camp, she isn’t even in the same system and you’re a mess.”_

_“I am not ‘starry-eyed’“ He hissed, drink swirling solemnly round its barely touched glass. A sigh escaped him and he resigned himself to the not quite pleasant task of downing the now warm brandy, slamming the glass down with a thud._

_“She is simply an excellent Commander, and I give her the respect she deserves.”_

_Chellick let out a howl of laughter, his drink threatening escape from its glassy prison as he clapped him roughly on the shoulder. The group of Asari in the booth behind them tittered and shot them indignant looks as they gathered themselves and shuffled as far away from Chellick and his baying as they could manage._

_“Oh, I see, it’s ‘respect’ now! Spirits Garrus, if you can’t even admit it to yourself I don’t know what to do with you. ‘Respect’, hah!”_

_“There is nothing to admit!”_

_“Bah, you gave me that same shit about the scout.”_

_“That was different!”_

_“Uh huh, and you got a whole lot of ‘respecting’ done there too.”_

_“You’re impossible, and it was.” The bartender raised a non-existent eyebrow as Chellick swayed, still gripping Garrus’s shoulder for support as he looked forlornly into his now empty vessel. She chuckled at the dismay on his face before swiping it out of his talons and promptly handing him a new one, resulting in a delighted groan._

_“Aethyta, I swear you were sent by the Spirits.”_

_She flicked a towel at the talons that had crept over the bar towards her with a loud snap and a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well if you carry on like that I’ll have to cut you off, so don’t count on it.”_

_“What about you?” She tipped her head towards Garrus. “You look like you need something stronger. At least if you want to be able to put up with this guy for the rest of the night.”_

_Garrus huffed, nodding at her questioning glance and reaching out to snatch the tiny shot glass filled with sparkling blue liquid she slid across the bar to him, throwing it back with a gulp._

_“It was different because I’m not into humans”. He added, the swaying Turian’s gaze slipping back to his attention. He tapped a single talon against the bar and another tiny glass appeared in front of him. It joined its brethren with a sputter, burning its way down his throat before settling uncomfortably in his stomach._

_“They’re just too... squishy. It’s weird. Besides, she and Kaidan already have something going on, since Virmire I think.”_

_“The LT?”_

_He nodded, the burn of the alcohol in his stomach twisting, its bitterness seeping through his veins as he remembered how relief and affection shone through Shepard like a small star as she climbed over the rubble towards Kaidan, the Presidium’s collapse a mere afterthought._

_“Well, you never know,” Chellick mumbled half-heartedly. “If you're just gonna sit here all night in denial, I’m going to go talk to those lovely Asari over there.” Slurring, he gestured towards the booth of Asari from earlier who looked the exact opposite of being interested in what Chellick had to say._

_Garrus grunted noncommittally, returning to stare at the new glass that had appeared between his talons. Chellick rolled his eyes before running one unsteady hand over his fringe and tottering off towards the booth._

_He did not have feelings for Shepard._  
_He did not._

_He couldn’t._

A loud squawk from the speakers announced the shuttle’s arrival at the station, jolting him from his reverie with an unpleasant sensation not unlike the time Wrex had taken it upon himself to be a Krogan-sized alarm clock. Shaking his head of the memories and its ache, he hastily made his way through security to the sparsely populated viewing deck.

His heart sank as he surveyed the docks, no sleek form of the Normandy outshining the spectacular view over the Wards and untwisting the nerves that had suddenly grasped hold of his insides. 

_They’re probably just late, she would have messaged if they had been delayed again._

Thankfully the waiting area was relatively empty, and he flopped down on the hard bench with an exasperated sigh. There were only a few hours before his next shift, but he hadn’t come all the way out to the docks just to leave again and miss the Normandy’s arrival. Might as well do something useful while he waited. He pulled up his omnitool, flicking open the research Pallin had sent him regarding Turian Spectre training. The Alliance didn’t have any sort of Spectre training program, so unlike Shepard, he couldn’t just accidentally become one. Lucky them.

It was dry and dull, the words seeming reluctant to tear themselves from the screen despite great effort, sleep teasing the edges of his mind. He had been up all night trying to drag Chellick back to his apartment after his attempt with the Asari resulted in multiple drinks being tossed over the both of them. Their conversation had gnawed through his brain all night, belaying any kind of rest. His eyelids fluttered as he slowly sank further into the bench, slipping down into sleep before he even had a chance to notice it was taking him.

_PING_

_PING. PING PING. PING PING PING._

He started and scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly before realizing the shrieking was coming from his wrist.

Mumbling a string of curses Shepard would have been proud of, he all but sprinted back through security, sliding to a stop at the transit station and hailing a cab instead of bothering with the slow-but-significantly-cheaper public shuttle. The skycar barely came to a stop before Garrus threw open the door and launched himself inside, frantically punching in the destination before slamming the door closed with enough force to rock it from side to side.

The skycar hummed quietly as it raced towards the Presidium, and he silently cursed, admonishing himself for letting his guard slip so badly. 

_PING_

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way” he muttered, mandibles twitching in irritation. The eerie glow of the interface lit up the cabin as he opened it, dreading the profuse apology he was most certainly going to have to make to Pallin later, when warning bells rattled down his spine, freezing him to the spot.

_Ex. V. Pallin - URGENT - Meet me in my office now. Come straight here._

Why would Pallin want to see him now? Being late (for the first time ever thank you very much) wouldn’t warrant a meeting with the Executor, and he still had that last form to fill for his Spectre application. Something sparked inside his chest; cold, barbed and clinging, that he couldn’t quite place. It made his heart pound and his plates itch as the skycar gracefully settled outside of the C-Sec Headquarters. 

As he climbed out into the overly-cheery sunshine, he took a moment to center himself, straightening his shoulders and settling into the Officer stance he wore so well, hoping that no one could see the worry and unease that flitted beneath the surface. 

The enormous doors of the building yawned like a great cavernous mouth, and suddenly all he could do was put one foot in front of the other to stop himself sprinting as far away as he possibly could. The barbs around his chest grew tighter with each beat, digging in, stealing the edge of his breath and causing all senses to scream on high alert. 

_RUN-FLEE-HIDE_

“Stop being so ridiculous” he muttered to no one in particular, but still the air crackled with foreboding, and the hush that fell over the precinct as he strode through the doorway was palpable. All eyes seemed to turn before looking anywhere but him, all hands suddenly busy typing and sorting and scratching. Even Chellick was uncharacteristically silent as Garrus strode towards him

“Hey, Chellick.” He nodded. No response greeted him, instead, fixing him with a gaze that said too much, tinged with a pity that made the cold barbed creature gripping his chest cry gleefully and clench him tighter. Chellick jerked his head in a stiff nod, before twisting away to find the empty notepad on his desk absolutely fascinating.

_RUN-FLEE-HIDE_

Each step towards the door at the end of the hallway amplified the frantic heartbeat screaming through his body, every inch a live wire, breath coming faster and tighter as the creature’s grip continued to crush.

_RUN-FLEE-HIDE_

He stuttered to a stop as he reached for the door, and he could have sworn his talons rattled against the cold control panel. It sighed softly as he opened it, revealing Pallin at his desk, talons folded across the datapad in front of him with mandibles high and tight against his face as he looked at Garrus expectantly.

“Sorry I’m late Sir, you asked for me?”

“Ah yes Vakarian, I received some news from the Alliance that I believe you will want to hear, please, take a seat.” Gesturing to the small worn human-style chair in front of the desk, the Executor seemed to age a cycle for each breath Garrus took before crossing the room and stiffly folding himself into the too small seat. It wasn’t until a rough cough cut the silence that Garrus even noticed the human in the room.

“Anderson, my apologies Admiral, sir, I didn’t see you there.”

The Admiral seemed to falter before stepping forward, unfolding his arms and settling uncomfortably into a parade rest. “Don’t worry about it.” The Admiral opened his mouth as if to continue, but stopped, swallowing a few times before bowing to a heavy sigh.

“I have... news... about the Normandy.”

 _No. No no no._

The words echoed through his skull as the creature’s grip tightened, its talons sinking deeper with each frenzied heartbeat. 

“I thought... I thought you would want to hear about it first. From me, not from some damn news report on a billboard somewhere.”

A watery sigh betrayed him as he took a deep breath and continued. “The Normandy was shot down over Alchera by an unknown vessel almost a week ago. Most of the crew made it to the escape pods, and were recovered, including Lieutenant Alenko and Doctor T’soni.”

His tongue twisted, dry and heavy as Anderson’s eyes drilled into him before continuing. “According to Joker, Shepard was spaced ensuring the last escape pod was evacuated. We spent five days combing the wreck but...” he trailed off, swallowing heavily as a low keen filled the room, and it took Garrus a moment to realize it was coming from him.

Anderson gripped his shoulder and kept talking, something about _memorials_ and _service to the galaxy_ but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

Garrus’s vision blurred, each word a knife twisting into his gut as blood and static screamed through his brain. An icy wind tore through his lungs, freezing him solid, gasping as the barbarous claws tore at his heart over and over again. At some point, he must have stood up, vaguely aware of the clattering of the chair and his shaking fists scattering the pile of datapads off the edge of the desk with a splintering crash. 

White hot rage melted the ice, and he shuttered himself away from that barbed creature tearing its way through his insides. He watched from behind a wall of numb indifference as his fists battered the desk over and over again, the low keen wrenching from his throat twisting into a roar.

Someone shouted, (was it him?) and it was only when the Executor’s face swam into view did the wall crack, allowing lucidity to creep in alongside the pain. He stumbled, caught off guard by its sting as the talons clasped around his forearm jerked him to a halt.

“Vakarian, I understand that this is difficult, but please, _control_ yourself!”

“HOW COULD YOU LET THEM DO THIS?” he bellowed, the words tearing themselves from his throat, not caring that they thundered throughout the entire precinct. Anderson recoiled as if Garrus had struck him, a flicker of satisfaction overriding the guilt that tried to follow. 

“You let them send her out there on that fucking goose chase! Hunting Geth! Even though you _knew_ it was nothing to do with fucking Geth! You may as well have shot her down yourself!”

He twisted from the Executor’s grip and stormed to the door, nearly punching through the control panel in his desperation to escape, unable to look at the combination of grief and guilt that played across the Admiral’s face.

The precinct was silent as he all but sprinted to the exit, subvocals roiling wildly and breath ragged with every gasp. He needed to move, needed to keep moving and never stop. Once outside he let himself stumble onward, not caring where he went or how people stared at the distraught Turian drifting through the Citadel.

The night shift was nearly over before he found himself at back at his apartment, exhaustion having numbed his grief to a dull ache. It wasn’t until he heard the soft murmur of hushed voices that he noticed the door ajar, light streaming into the dark hallway from within. Stepping through, he squinted as he adjusted to the harsh brightness, his gaze hazily settling on the two Turians in front of him, almost comically packed into the tiny apartment kitchen.

Chellick gasped “Garrus! We have been worried about you! Where have you been? I know you wouldn’t want Castis involved but you didn't really leave me much choice.” His father's steely gaze roamed over the collection of cuts and bruises he had acquired on his stumble through the Wards, giving away nothing as he watched Garrus turn away. 

He said nothing, continuing his way to a small cabinet in the lounge area, grabbing the first bottle he could find, ripping it open with his teeth and taking a long, sputtering draught. It burned it’s way down his throat, searing the edges of pain that still remained back to a dull throb. In the back of his mind, he noted the gold-rimmed edges of the bottle of expensive Turian liquor his father had given him when he joined C-Sec. They were supposed to open it together when - if - he made Captain. Guess it didn’t matter much now.

He collapsed on the couch, knees buckling before he had even decided to sit. Eyes bored into his back, digging for the questions that he didn’t want to answer, and he choked down another long draught from the bottle, frowning when it grew too light in his hands. Guess it was too much to hope that they would give up and leave him alone.

Glancing back at the two still staring at him from within the tiny kitchen, he sighed inwardly at the disapproval emanating from Castis.

“Are you happy now?”

Castis shot him a questioning look, on edge, mandibles frozen in place. “Excuse me?”

“I said, are you happy now?” His voice wavered, and he took a moment to wash away the lump in his throat with the last of the bottle.

“I know you hated her, hated that I ‘abandoned my duties’ and ‘ran off with Sh.. a Spectre’.” The words stumbled off his tongue, but it did nothing to hide the venom that laced them. He abandoned the now empty bottle, letting it tumble to the floor as he leaned over and grabbed another, wrenching it open.

“Well the problem is solved now, isn’t it? A harsh bark of bitter laughter, followed by another vitriolic gulp. The silence stretched out between them, weariness dissolving his anger until he felt nothing but a burning hollow.

He ignored the two Turians as they murmured a few quiet words to each other, the soft woosh of the door closing announcing Chellick’s departure. Castis let out a heavy sigh, before grabbing two glasses and settling at the other end of the couch. He offered one to Garrus, shrugging and setting it aside when it went unanswered. Gently pulling the bottle from Garrus’s too-tight grasp, he poured himself a small measure before handing it over, leaning back to inhale the smoky vapor as he swirled it around the glass.

They sat in silence for a long time, Castis sipping at his glass and Garrus choking down bitter mouthfuls, until the artificial sun started to rise, signaling the end of the night shift.

“I almost did it, you know. The Spectre thing.” He breathed, barely more than a whisper.

“I submitted the first part of my application last week. She was going to be my reference. My partner even, if they let me.” Castis said nothing, simply continuing to stare at the bottom of his glass.

A shaky sigh betrayed him before he could stop it. His eyes prickled and burned, and he rubbed them clumsily before bowing to press his palms hard against them.

“If I was a Spectre, I could actually help people. I could rejoin the Normandy. I could tell her... I mean, I could say...” he trailed off, grinding his palms harder as if he could somehow force the words back into his skull through his eyeballs.

A watery laugh made its way through clenched teeth, coming out more like a moan. “It’s not like it matters now anyway.”

Castis stared at him with so much love and sadness and pride his breath hitched, stealing away the foundations of the wall he had built around himself to keep it all away, crumbling as the keen vibrating through him threatened to overwhelm.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed”. 

Castis hauled Garrus to his feet, draping an arm over his shoulder for support and shuffling him across the room. The fire drained out of him, Garrus leaned into his father’s cowl, the familiar scent of something spicy and earthy from his mother’s garden easing the ache a little as the barbarous creature shrank back from its grip around his heart.

His eyes fluttered closed as soon as he sank into the soft mattress, Castis carefully tucking the blankets in around him like when he was a child returning to his bed after a nightmare. He whispered a soft soothing farewell, and Garrus was left to let his exhaustion drag him down to sleep.

The following weeks (month?) blurred together, a hazy mess of drink and fitful dreams. Chellick and his father were regular visitors, forcing food and water and showers upon him, trying their best to dispel the apathy and despair that permeated every inch of the apartment. The message chime on his omnitool was a permanent feature of every hour, at least it was until he threw it across the room in a fit of pique.

The day of Shepard's memorial was possibly the worst, aside from That Day. The Council and Alliance had organized a public service, smattered with images taken from various missions and promotional materials, bushels of flowers she didn’t even like (the weird long white ones that reminded him of his mother’s rolled pastries). There was even a life-sized holo, in an awkward, stiff salute at the center of the podium, although Garrus was pretty sure that it was just a generic female human with Shepard’s face plastered over top. 

The entire Normandy crew was there, all dressed in their best dress blues or armors, returning from their various locales all over the galaxy to pay their respects. Of course, now that she was dead, the Council members each waxed lyrical about her dedication to serving the galaxy, and he had to grit his teeth to stop himself leaping up to grab the Salarian councilor by his ridiculous robe and throw him into the lake behind them.

The other members of the crew looked almost as rough as Garrus felt. Joker didn’t look at anyone, head hung, leaning hard on the cane that supported the braces wrapping around each leg. Kaidan looked lost, permanently dazed as though the bomb of Shepard’s death hadn’t finished exploding for him yet. Tali curled into Garrus’s side, tucked under his arm, a soft sob and occasional hiccup escaping her mask. He was glad for the company, her heat against his side like an anchor pulling him back from the torrential current of his emotions. Liara sat, eyes wide staring at her hands as if she could burn a hole in the universe and pull Shepard back through it, tears streaming down her cheeks. Even Wrex was silent, though the rage that streaked through his features screamed louder than any of the speakers warbling the Alliance anthem throughout the Presidium.

After what seemed an eternity of accolades and words of comfort, the crew said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways. Garrus meandered his way around the Presidium towards the Wards, dreading the return to his apartment. No doubt Castis or Chellick would be waiting there for him, ready for another attempt at defusing the ticking time bomb he had become. The creature in his chest grew colder and heavier, barbs digging into his flesh as it wound its way sinuously through his insides. The thought of going home - no, he couldn’t. Not yet.

He recognized it now, what Chellick had been trying to get through his head that night at the bar, what he had buried as soon as it tried to spark to life. The realization struck him like a physical blow. He staggered to the nearest bench and fell into it, breath heaving out of him in a whoosh.

How had he been so blind? Why didn’t he say something earlier? Maybe then he would have been the one that she had stared at with such reverence, the one she had reached out for when everything went to hell. Maybe he would have still been on the Normandy, been able to do _something_.

It didn’t matter now. She was gone, and she had carved out a piece of him to take with her.

Shaking, he stood, and let his feet carry him forwards once more. Suddenly the entire Citadel seemed to press down on him, the artificial sunlight and the recycled air stifling. He needed to get away from the station. Away from the constant reminders. Away from the Council who sent her to her death. Away from the never-ending questions, from his father’s insistence he return to C-Sec, from the suffocating red tape that would entomb him if he stayed.

The thought stoked the low, slow-burning fire of anger and resentment that he had carried since That Day. This time, it threw off greasy black plumes of smoke that coated everything with a mind-numbing blanket of ash. Nothing of him remained, only the lazy flames and those ever-present merciless claws.

He looked up, and a tiny un-burnt part of him flickered in surprise when he realized he had wandered all the way to the docks in his haze. Without thinking, he walked up to the attendant at the booth.

“Hello sir, what can I help you with today?” The young Asari smiled, bright and cheerful, the tiny part of him wondering what she made of the dead eyes looking back at her from within his skull.

“Where is the next available shuttle going?” He croaked, his mouth suddenly dry and tongue tangled between his teeth.

She crinkled her nose a little before answering. “The next available shuttle is leaving for Omega from Docking Bay 3.″

Omega. It was perfect. “I’ll take it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I don’t sell the tickets, I’m just here for assistance.” She beamed, almost painfully bright. “Please feel free to use one of our handy kiosks to make your purchases. Have a nice trip!” She waved at the kiosk directly next to him, before turning to receive the next customer.

He mumbled a farewell and shuffled over to the kiosk, quickly buying his ticket and making his way to the waiting area for Dock 3. He took a seat next to a very battered-looking old Krogan, flicking open his omnitool to read the deluge of travel warnings and information that had been sent through with his ticket. He grimaced slightly as the interface wavered uncertainly. Probably should have gotten Tali to look at it while she was here.

Omega.

He'd heard of it. Everyone had. A big old rock full of the worst kinds of people. The kind of place that eventually consumed everyone who dared set foot there. And if he happened to take a few down with him, even better. The fire billowed, burning with the new addition of determination, hardening the numb blanket of ash into a bitter armor of hazy anesthetic.

_Omega._

He flared his mandibles in a shaky mockery of a grin, all teeth, and bones, sour and devoid of warmth.

_I’ll see you soon, Shepard._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! As always, please feel free to give feedback, it is much appreciated <3


End file.
